


Switched Circumstances

by JerDaBear



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: #Drarry, #lgbtq+, #revenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 18:24:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11742633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JerDaBear/pseuds/JerDaBear
Summary: Draco loses all after the war has ended- he's left with nothing. Not even his wand.  Who will rescue him from  this hell that has been forced upon him? Harry Potter, who had been recently dumped by a annoyed Ginny Weasley? Pansy Parkinson, his best friend, who recently took a vacation to Australia to get some sun? Or will he find an independent streak hidden inside somewhere?Find out in Switched Circumstances, which will  go into all of those missed years between the end of the war and Albus and Scorpius's generation.





	Switched Circumstances

                                                                                                                                      One

Draco stopped running two miles from his house, panting with the effort. He had never bothered properly exercising before, and he was regretting it now. He looked behind him, hoping that those renegade Death Eaters weren't after him. They were probably still having fun burning up all of the Malfoy's  country house's decor, as well as further mutilating his parent's dead bodies. He shivered. It was not a pleasant memory. It did not help that it was past two in the morning. Draco had had no time to put on his coat nor grab any other useful items, such as his wand, money, or food. He was lucky that he had made it out of there with nothing more than a few scrapes. 

Draco looked around; he was in an empty one-street town in the middle of the English countryside. No one was around; they had probably panicked at seeing the smoke rise over Malfoy Country Mansion. The houses were silent and still, and he was glad of it. He recalled being told the name of the forsaken place when they had first arrived here, but that was eleven years ago.

 What would he do now? That question roiled through his head, making it ache. He had no wand, so he couldn't Apparate, fly, or summon a broomstick from somewhere. He couldn't buy a new wand, as he had no money. With his parent's unexpected demise, they hadn't written wills yet. So the money would probably go to the Ministry of Magic, according to their usual procedures in these circumstances. He sighed heavily, then slouched down into a ball in the middle of the road. He couldn't do ANYTHING without his wand, it seemed; otherwise, he would have managed without it. It was true then what they said; you are never grateful for what you have until you lose it all.  

 

                                                                                                                                        Two

Draco woke up the next morning with a start. When he had realized that there was nothing he could do at that very moment to change his predicament, he went off to find somewhere to sleep that wasn't made of asphalt. He had found an old disused Muggle barn on the edge of someone's property, and shortly dropped off into slumber. Now it was light outside. He peeked outside and heard the same abandoned silence as before. Draco cautiously  stepped outside, feeling the midday sun warm his insides. He instinctively stretched, feeling his body energize itself. His stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since last night at 8:30 PM. He walked to the main street, wincing at the sudden muscular pain in his legs. He found the general store unlocked. How lucky for him, he mused, as he searched the store for stuff that he would need in the upcoming weeks. 

Draco eventually ended up stealing a backpack, some Muggle clothes (He had to look in a Muggle men's magazine for tips), nonperishable food for a month, and two gallons of water. He tried putting on the backpack. It broke.

"SHIT!" 

Draco banged his head against the wall, cursing himself for being so stupid. He couldn't carry it all in one go. But what if he tried...

In two hours, he was on a stolen bike loaded with stolen food and water. 

"Alright, bike. How do you work," he muttered, reaching for his...wand...

"DAMN!"

Draco got off of the bike. He decided that he would have to get back his wand somehow.

 

                                                                                                                                       Three

Draco thought hard. Should he return to the murder scene? It might be construed by the Ministry that HE had done the heinous crime. But he wanted his wand, and to say a final, PROPER farewell to his parents. Of course, there was the possibility that those traitorous bastard Death Eaters were still hanging around, but that was highly unlikely. The Aurors were fast, especially after Harry Potter joined them. He was considered by most the best of the best, what with killing Voldemort and all.

He stood up, letting all of his worries fly away in the gentle breeze. He waved goodbye to them, and started doing what Slytherins do best: Planning.

 

Harry Potter, Head of the Aurors, was impatient. Somehow, a bunch of renegades had managed to both kill the Malfoys AND give him a huge headache. If only there had been a witness...

Wait! There it was! They had only found TWO dead, mutilated, and burned Malfoy family members! Where was Draco?

 

                                                                                                                                          Four

Draco approached the edge of his property with trepidation. What would he find? His parent's bodies rotting? More Death Eaters? Draco shook those thoughts away as he peeked out from behind a tree. An Auror was peeking back at him. He jumped back, startled.

"What the fuck was that for?" 

The Auror merely blinked. "We're searching for a boy named Draco Malfoy, thought to have run away while the renegades-"

"I'm Draco! See? Blonde hair? Accent? Etc, etc,etc! I'm the real deal! Now take me to who's in charge! And do it FAST! I want to spend the least amount of time possible being as unkempt as this!" He glared at the Auror, who was now certain in this boy's identity. No one other than an aristocrat would dare order about an Auror. And there were no other rich magical families in the area who had sons like Lucius and Narcissa's.

"Yessir." Not used to being respectful to rich folks, he gave a half-hearted salute and turned to leave.

"Try that pathetic excuse of a salute in my presence and I will have you shipped to Australia."

The luckless Auror bowed deeply and said, 

"This way please, sir."

Draco followed the Auror to a tent outside the damaged manor. The tent looked like a standard camping tent, but he knew better. Wizards liked their homely comforts when on the job, he was sure. He knew his family liked to use a tent that looked like an extra-expensive tent on the outside, and was a full-sized mansion inside. 

The Auror held the tent flap aside for Draco to enter first. Inside was a large dark mahogany table, with ten comfy chairs around it. The furniture had clearly been donated, and he sniffed with disgust at the taste in interior decor. It was an odious combination of Gothic, military, and art deco styles. It was so horrible that Draco intended to speak his mind about it right then. But just as he was about to speak, a voice from the other end of the long table said:

"Damn. Why- no, how did YOU survive?"

 

                                                                                                                                            Five

Draco gaped unashamedly. There was his arch nemesis, all glittery and hot- no, evil at the same time. Harry Potter. The Chosen One. Had just said what? Oh, right. The whole "Damn, I wanted you dead" thing. 

"Hello? Are you still with us?" 

Draco collapsed, all the stress, pain, and torture he had gone through plus this surprise catching up with him at last. Those were the last words he heard before sinking into sleep.

Harry was shocked. "What, did I surprise you that much? Sorry about that, I didn't mean anything by it. Let's get you to the mages."

He picked up Malfoy, noting that he was less- well, fed than usual. In fact, he looked like he had spent two months in Azkaban with only water to drink and stale bread to eat. Harry carried him bridal style to the mage's tent and brought him in. 

"Please do your best with him. And if he wakes up soon, tell him I'll be waiting for him in the Tent. Thanks!"

He waved cheerily at them, and almost skipped off. Finding Draco had been the last thing on his list to do, aside from The Problem that Hermione-No, The Minister wanted to discuss with him in private. He paused. What would happen to Draco? He felt kind of sorry for him, mostly because he had lost all he had to revengeful renegades. Plus, he had obviously had trouble surviving on his own. That was to be expected. He had lived his life on the expectation that he would get everything for as long as he lived. 

Harry sighed. Would Draco be in any shape to act as witness in solving this case? All the Aurors were able to figure out was that a whole bunch of dudes in black garb had stormed through the place, grabbing valuables, killing the Malfoys, and burning up the house after them. By the time the fire had been put out, they had Apparated away. The Ministry needed any extra information that Draco might have locked away in his spoiled brain. 

Harry walked back to the mage's tent to check on Draco. Once inside, he could tell something was wrong. The mages were shaking their heads and muttering comforting things to one of the younger mages. Harry had to help.

"What's wrong? What's happened?" 

"Well, sir, Draco has run away on Plimouth's watch." The younger mage looked up. He was crying.

"I-I tried to stop him, but he said th-that he...needed...his w-wand..." The mage's words were accompanied by sobs.

Harry had no time for this. He ran outside right into Draco. Both of them were running so fast that both collapsed, Harry on top of Draco. Harry was stunned. Draco had cleaned up. He had an adorable little mustache, and had combed his hair back in the style he had worn as a kid. He was...handsome. Fuck. This was NOT happening. He was NOT having the hots for Draco MALFOY, his bully in Hogwarts. Again, not happening. At ALL.

The hot-no, Draco was yelling again. 

 "WHY the FUCK haven't you GOTTEN OFF OF ME?"

Draco was mad. He hadn't been expecting this. Harry fucking Potter was STILL staring him. Damn. They were gonna get caught. He had to do SOMETHING.

"I'm being ASSAULTED!!!!!!"

Aurors streamed out from everywhere. They took Harry off of him and helped him to his feet.

"Sir, that was unwise. Attacking the Malfoy child is-"

"No, I didn't attack him. We ran into each other, and I fell on top of him."

"Then why were you on top of him for over five minutes without getting off?"  

 

                                                                                                                                               Six

After the embarrassing scene from earlier, Harry Potter had made up his mind: He HAD to apologize for what he had done to Malfoy. As he was lifted off of him, he saw Malfoy's adorable face quivering with shock. Then he ran into the mage's tent and hadn't come out since. How could Harry show him that he was indeed sorry without seeming insincere?

In the mage's tent, Draco was laughing his ass off. He had been quivering with the effort of holding it in in front of Harry, who looked remorseful and disappointed at the same time. It was obvious that Harry was attracted to his looks, but was trying to deny it. Draco had never seen something so funny in his entire life. He paused, noting the shocked expressions the mages had. He had to control his emotions and show them all that he was not a man to be trifled with. He was, after all, the Malfoy's only remaining descendant, and had to retain some dignity. But after he finished cackling about Potter's predicament, of course...

Harry paced back and forth outside the mages tent, trying out sentences in his head. I'm sorry for accidentally falling on top of you. then staring at you because you're hot? No no, that wouldn't do. Draco would probably be homophobic, and he didn't want him to reject- no, refuse to give him the much-needed information for the Ministry on the grounds that he hated Harry. He decided, after a long time fruitlessly searching his brain for a proper apology, that he would improvise. He approached the tent and opened the flap. To his horror, Draco was on the floor howling like a wild animal, rolling around like a demented- well, human, actually. Harry ran for his tent, seriously shocked. Was this behavior towards him because of what he did earlier? He would have to check in on Malfoy, and possibly get him to a therapist. The deaths of his family members could have caused a mental disorder to have developed...

He would have to think this through VERY carefully.

 

                                                                                                                                             Seven

Draco glared at the mages, daring them to comment. It was evident that Harry thought he had a mental condition, because after a hurried discussion with Potter, the mages had taken out a straitjacket. He thought this was a bit extreme, seeing as all he had done was laugh. He gave the mages a warning glare to stay quiet, then did something he thought he would NEVER do.

"Help! I'm being sexually assaulted!" He quickly stripped, and ran out the door, wearing nothing but his silk boxers. He ran to Harry's tent, hoping to the heavens that Harry wasn't in a position to see him in this state...

"Fuck!" Harry was about to go outside and see how Draco was doing, when the very Devil's Advocate comes rushing in wearing nothing but pants (underwear). Rather high-quality ones, he noted, as Draco ran past him, swearing at the top of his lungs. Harry looked at his retreating figure, impressed yet again. These little accidents were very revealing- NO! This is FORBIDDEN! 

Harry shook, mad at himself for failing to act appropriately YET AGAIN. He had to clear this misunderstanding up before it got any worse. He called after Draco,

"Dude, I didn't mean it!"

"Mean what?"

Draco was pissed. And embarrassed. This was not a good a combination in him, and he knew it. 

"What do you mean, you didn't mean it? You bastard planned all of this, yes?" 

See, Embarrassing+Pissed = Extremely Sarcastic with no boundaries. Harry didn't figure this out at the time, unfortunately. 

"I didn't mean to think you were hot, stare at your cute bum, or crash into you all over the place!" yelled Harry, not in the best mood himself. Then he realized what he had just said.

"I didn't mean any of that!" he shouted desperately.

"So, does that mean you did mean to think I was hot, stare at my apparently cute bum, and crash into me?" Draco inquired with his best annoying smart-aleck voice. He LOVED doing this kind of stuff to people. He was, after all, a Slytherin.

"No! Let me rephrase what I said!" 

Harry, having said that, walked over to Draco and pinned him against the wall. "I am going to say what I mean this time. And you WILL listen, alright?", he said in a quiet yet firm voice.

Draco was still feeling rebellious. "Tell me already! I need some clothes! And don't tie me up! I was just laughing earlier. So there's no need for you to be trapping me here." He pushed Harry off of him. "And I've spent enough time here already. I'm tired of this place, especially of you. You, who finds me attractive, yet can't even tell me. That's pathetic."

Harry watched uselessly from the sidelines as Draco put on some Muggle clothes and took out his wand.

"But why?" Harry asked weakly.

"Because you're pathetic. I just said that. Remember to listen. It'll save your life one day. Plus, I'm going after the bastards who killed my parents. I'm taking a page out of your book." He disapparated with a swish of his wand.

****

Eight

Draco arrived at his manor gates with reluctance. Had the Death Eaters ruined this house too? No, they had not, he discovered, as he rounded the corner. Apparently their only mission was to kill off his parents, not completely destroy all of the Malfoy's property and estates. He walked inside, feeling uneasy. None of the traps that Lucius had set up had gone off, but the air felt... stirred up. Not right. 

Crash!

Draco bolted behind a stuffed divan. A minute later, a busy,  grubby-looking man walked past Draco, carrying some of the silver tableware and goblets. He was stealing HIS possessions! 

Mundungus Fletcher, commonly called Dung, was getting the spooks. This old manor was empty though, right? He shivered anyways, creeped out. He had promised himself that this was the last theft he would commit. He was getting old, and his back was giving him gyp again. He leaned against the closest pillar. Dung whirled around, hearing someone fail to sneak up on him. He relaxed, until he realized that the 'ghost' standing in front of him was the Malfoy boy. In the flesh. Not a ghost at all. 

"BOO," he said, both loudly and contemptuously. Only the Malfoy son could achieve a BOO like that, Mundungus thought, as Draco slammed him against the wall.

"Ow! What the bloody 'ell was that for?" 

"For attempted theft of the Malfoy family possessions, for a start! Who told you to do this?"

Mundungus cowered. Never had he seen the Malfoy boy THIS intimidating. He was being pinned against the wall with both his and the boy's wands being pointed at him. He wished more fervently than ever that he would live through this. Being a criminal wasn't worth getting caught. He had finally learned why most didn't live a life like his on purpose. Because this could happen. 

Draco smirked, knowing EXACTLY what was running through this slimeball's head. Probably along the lines of "I'm never stealing again, it's not worth getting caught by brats" or something. He demanded, 

"Who hired you? I know you wouldn't pull this off yourself. Somehow, you managed to get in here and steal all that is worth anything in this house without tripping the alarms, and I KNOW that you don't have enough magical experience to do so. So, who are you working for?"

"Mr. Goyle hired me. He wanted revenge for how your family betrayed You-Know-Who. Or so he said." Dung said all of this while reaching for his knife. Draco noticed.

"Don't bother with that knife. You lied to me. There's no WAY that Goyle could have planned this."

"I never said he PLANNED it. Only that he was helping with it because he wanted revenge. That man couldn't plan his way out of a paper bag."

Draco nodded in agreement. "I'll reward your compliance with one item of silverware out of that bag. Then you may leave. Don't tell anyone about what we talked about here. Spread the word that I'm dead, and that you were spooked by my ghost. Now go!"

Mundungus Fletcher obeyed without a word, except a hasty "Yessir, will do so sir!"

Then Draco was finally alone with his thoughts. The problem looming in his head was: Who had planned all of this? 

 

                                                                                                                                           Nine

Draco thought hard. All of the Death Eaters he knew well had been dealt with under Kingsley Shacklebolt's ministry stint, so it had to be someone who had either been cleared, had been faking being good, or was doing it for the money. Most mercenaries, he knew, found jobs working for the planners, not creating the plans themselves for others. 

His stomach growled, reminding him that he needed to eat soon.

"Ah, whatever. I can think more later. I can't make any proper investigations without the Ministry's knowledge anyways- I may have been given complete amnesty, but by and large, I'm still not trusted. I need proof that this is serious, otherwise they won't believe me. Or an eyewitness. Like-" 

Draco paused in his out-loud thoughts. What about Harry Potter? He would believe him, right? He shook his head, frowning. The last comment he had made to Potter had not been complimentary, had it? Why had he done that? Oh yeah, because Potter wasn't being honest to himself. And Draco, idiot that he was, became fed up with it and left dramatically. Of course he ruined his only chance for revenge. 

He cussed.

Loudly. Many times.

Where was he going to find help? No matter how much he told himself that he could be completely independent, he realized that this was a lie that he had been telling himself over and over. So, who had he NOT pissed off yet?

 

Harry Potter, meanwhile, seriously missed Draco- his unexpected classic naked scenes, forthrightness, insults, but most of all, he missed his _______________.

**_Ok, I'm not gonna write that he missed some bit of Draco's body- because that's not my thing. Make up some bit and comment it. Heh. The one that makes me laugh most wins, alright? Now back to the story:_ **

Harry paced back and forth around his intimidating (or so he'd heard) conference room. Unfortunately, all of his friends were back in London. Wait... except for Luna! But if he asked HER for advice, what would it be? Go run off into the sunset while carrying a Snorkack horn? No, not her, he thought. But there was one other person he could trust with this kind of information- sorry, two! Ron and Hermione Weasley. He decided that he would tell Ron first- mostly because being The Minister of Magical Britain is exhausting, especially if you're only 23, like Hermione. Harry grinned. As soon as the job at the Malfoy Manor was done, he was going to get advice on both his job and his personal life. He could hardly wait!

 

                                                                                                                                   Ten

As the last day of the investigations at the Malfoy Country Manor ended, Harry was relieved. He would report his findings to Hermione- no, he'd forgotten! He still needed Draco to give him a witness statement! Shit! He had no choice: he had to forget advice and go directly to Draco, ask him for a recording of the events, and report to Hermione without incurring her wrath that he would get if he reported to her with insufficient information. She was his boss, after all. He had to explain to the other Aurors what he was doing.

"Camp Meeting! All Aurors in the conference room now!"

Plimouth, the young medic, and Gainsbury, the Auror who had encountered Draco and brought him in, were the only ones still at the camp. Naturally, Harry Potter, The Chosen One, was annoyed. No, closer to livid, Plimouth noted. 

"Why is no one here except for yourselves?"

Plimouth swallowed. Gainsbury had won the staring contest, so it was up to him to break the bad news. Not something he was looking forward to. He was only just out of Hogwarts, after all, and now he had to give Mr. Potter Bad News.

"Um, well, they didn't feel...uhhh... _safe_... around you. Because of those Malfoy ...incidents." He gulped apprehensively.

"Didn't feel safe, eh? Any valid reasons?" 

Plimouth saw Potter's expression become a horrifying mixture of crazy and angry. 

"Well?" Harry was extremely mad. They abandoned their jobs because of invalid "safety reasons." The NERVE of them! 

"Well, no sir. They didn't give ME any reasons. Why would they tell me?" Plimouth was getting resentful. It was Gainsbury's turn. "Gainsbury sir; surely, being a senior Auror, you know what happened?" Plimouth asked sweetly. He hardly ever used this tactic against his elders, but when he did, it worked. Excellently.

Gainsbury cleared his throat importantly. "The other Aurors and mages were running around with their heads off (metaphorically speaking) after your run-ins with the Malfoy boy whilst he was in the nude. So they illogically concluded that you would be after all of them next. They believe now that you will, and I quote them here, hump anything that moves. So that's why they all left, sir. I managed to persuade young Plimouth here that you don't want to rape him, but the rest were set in their ways of thinking." Gainsbury sighed heavily. "I apologize, sir, for being unable to prevent this occurrence. I will clean up camp with Plimouth. Come, medic boy!"

The pair left Harry to his own devices. Well, this was an unwelcome surprise. He had been hoping to take a whole squadron of Aurors with him when he went to visit Drac- _Malfoy_ , in case he protested, and didn't want to reveal anything. Plus, he hated him. He had said that- no, actually. Harry paused in his thoughts to try and recall EXACTLY what Malfoy had said. Something like, "I've spent enough time here already. I'm tired of this place, especially of you. You, who finds me attractive, yet can't even tell me. That's pathetic." 

That meant that Draco  _knew_ that Harry liked him, and was annoyed that he didn't confess to him or something. So... now Draco would probably expect a confession next time they met. Would he be ready to say it? 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me some feedback! This is my first Drarry book, so I am willing to listen to constructive criticism.   
> Thanks!  
> -JerDaBear


End file.
